The Final 3
by niamh23
Summary: A Catoniss Katniss/Cato fic as Katniss, Peeta and Cato are left in the Games. Some Everlark bits too!
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, my first attempt at a Catoniss fanfic so I apologise in advance for how awful this is. I've always shipped Peeta/Katniss and Clove/Cato but I had a dream last night about Catoniss and it really stuck with me. I was dying to get home from school so I could write this fic and I've never been this inspired before.**

**Basically everything has happened as according to the book so far. Katniss, Peeta and Cato are the only tributes left. Mostly shipping Cato and Katniss but theres enough of Peeta to keep Everlark fans happy. Thanks for reading!**

Peeta and I carefully tread through the woods, weapons raised. Every time Peeta steps on a dry twig or stumbles I bite back an insult; I know he's not trying to be loud but he's making it very easy for Cato to track us. Just thinking about Cato, the strong, handsome boy from district 2 makes me shiver. How he can throw a spear 200 metres. How he can snap a neck an effortless ripple of his muscular arms. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I had hoped Cato wouldn't be the last tribute left. But the odds have not been in my favour since the beginning of the games.

An arrow is nocked in my bow, ready to be released at the slightest inclination of attack. I snap my head back and forth, listening intently with my right ear. I scowl. The hearing in my left ear has deserted me since the explosion which destroyed the Careers food. It makes me feel even more vulnerable than I already am. I watch Peeta from the corner of my eye. He is wielding a sword over his head, poised to strike. His jaw twitches. We catch each other's eyes and I grimace. Peeta nods reassuringly, though I see his arm shake slightly. Peeta is not a born killer, unlike Cato; he is a baker's son. He is the boy with the bread, the boy who saved my life, the boy I will never stop owing. I realise I'm still looking at him and quickly avert my eyes, blushing. I can almost sense his smile.

Suddenly I feel Peeta tense beside me. Before I can aim my bow Cato bursts through the trees directly in front of us. He is sprinting full force at us, his blue eyes wide with fear. His usually perfect face is pink from exertion and his blond hair is matted with blood. He pales when he sees me but doesn't stop. My arms are paralysed, my mouth open in an o of surprise. Peeta is likewise frozen. Cato barrels into us, knocking Peeta backwards. I see his sword hurtle from his hand and disappear into the forest. Cato pushes me in front of him and I stumble forward. I try to turn back and help Peeta but Cato bars my way.

"Go Katniss, run damnit!" Cato yells, pushing me harder. His eyes are pleading and I have no choice but to start running. I heed his warnings and force my tired legs to move. My muscles are aching in protest, my legs as heavy as lead. I can hear Cato's heavy panting directly behind me. I look back to Peeta and although he's trying, his injured leg won't hold up much longer. A sweat has broken across his forehead and he's gasping for breath, trying to hobble after us. I slow and Cato stops with me. He follows my gaze back to Peeta. I look on helplessly. Cato doesn't have to ask. He takes one long look at me.

"Go Katniss," he says and sprints back for Peeta. I try to pull him back; I'm afraid he's going to kill Peeta. My mouth opens to warn Peeta but before I can get the words out Cato has an arm under his elbow, supporting him back to the Cornucopia. Peeta's face mirrors my confusion. Just 2 minutes ago we were sworn enemies. Peeta's survival means Cato's death. Why is he doing this? Is this one of his games? I have no time to ponder because suddenly, from behind them a red-coated beast leaps from the tree's, it's sharp fangs dripping with saliva. I stifle a scream and sprint towards the cornucopia, my long braid flying behind me.

I make it to the golden cornucopia and swing nimbly onto it, using the handholds to pull myself to a safe distance. I search desperately for Peeta and Cato and I finally spot them. They are nearing the cornucopia but the beast had narrowed the gap between them. To my horror I see another dozen or so close behind, all foaming at the mouth. They are like no animal I've ever seen. They are similar in size to a bear but run twice as fast. They have wolf like qualities but there is something unnatural about them I can't pinpoint. They must be mutations, created by the Gamemakers to make the final brawl interesting. I fight back the urge to throw up. Cato and Peeta have almost made it to the cornucopia. I get on my knees and beckon them.

"Hurry Cato," I cry as the first mutt bounds forward. My stomach hurls as I realise what is unnerving about the mutts; their eyes are unmistakably human. Bright green and oval shaped, narrowed in rage. Shaking off my unease I reach forward. Cato boosts Peeta up and I pull him to safety. Peeta collapses behind me, taking wheezy breaths. I don't have time to check on him. Cato scrambles up the side of the cornucopia and jumps for my hand. I stretch as far as I can and his hand locks firmly around mine. I breathe a sigh of relief as I clasp both Cato's hands. He looks just as relieved as he smiles up at me. Abruptly I feel a tug on my hands and Cato yells in agony. Simultaineously, I hear the crack as his knee is pulled from the socket. I can see the first mutt has its jaws clamped around his leg and is snarling hatefully. My mouth becomes dry when I see the collar hanging around the mutations bulky neck; it reads district 5. I swallow. The bright green eyes, the red fur. The mutt is Foxface.

I shake myself off and heave Cato upwards as hard as I can. His brow knits in pain and a weak cry escapes his lips, red with blood. His eyes are screwed shut. I look helplessly to Peeta. He is spread eagled in the middle of the cornucopia, chest heaving. Blood has soaked his trousers; his wound must have re-opened as he was running.

"Peeta," I scream, tearing my vocal chords. "Help me Peeta!" He still seems to be in a daze and cannot hear me.

Frantic, I turn back to Cato. His eyes are going out of focus, his eyelids drooping. The mutt is still hanging to his mutilated leg and the other 21 mutts are eagerly yapping at its heels, baying for blood. I feel myself slowly being dragged further towards the edge. I try not to show my emotions to Cato. I attempt to look calm, to reassure Cato. To my surprise, he is laughing quietly.

"You're a terrible actress."

"What?" I say, taken aback. Cato just chuckles, shaking his head from side to side.

"Let me go Katniss," he croaks. I shake my head furiously.

"I'm going to bring you down with me if you don't let go Katniss. You and Peeta have a chance of surviving this, I never did. Just let me go and you can go home, you can see Prim, and Gale." I jump at their names. How did Cato know about my sister? He had always seemed heartless, a killing machine. Hadn't he portrayed himself like that for the interviews? What really confused me was his mention of Gale. I had never mentioned Gale to anyone but Peeta; it wouldn't have fared well to tell the Capitol of my best friend Gale when Peeta and I were supposed star crossed lovers. How did Cato know about Gale?

Cato seemed to able to read my mind and smiles feebly, despite the obvious pain in his leg. The mutt jerks on his leg again and Cato slips another 3 inches. His face is deathly white against his red lips; a small trickle runs down his chin. I gulp back unexpected tears.

"No," I whisper, almost inaudibly. Cato pulls his left hand from my grasp and dips even further. I try to regain my hold but he jerks away from me. I feel my muscles shake as I try to keep hold of him. My hands are slick with sweat and his hand is slipping from mine. "Don't Cato, don't do this." I grit my teeth in an attempt to keep hold of him. My forhead is beaded with sweat and I'm hovering over the edge of the cornucopia.

Cato smiles sadly and his hand slips from under mine. He falls backwards and lands hard on his back. He is immediately swarmed by mutts, yelping excitedly. His anguished cries pierce the night, mingled with the frenzied barks of the mutations. I clench my teeth in rage and pick up my bow, lying forlornly at my feet. I take aim and fire an arrow into the skull of one of the mutts attacking Cato. It rolls heavily onto its side, its brown eyes lifeless. I swallow back bile as I see the number 11 of the collar. But as Rue's mutt falls to the side another 3 take its place. I shoot another between the green eyes and bring down the largest with two arrows. From the glimpses I catch of Cato I see him swinging his sword wildly and bringing down three mutations together. I know he won't go down without a fight. I take down my fourth beast right through the eye, like I did the squirrels when hunting in district 12. I notice my arrows are dwindling but I continue to shoot them into the throng of mutts. Too soon, the quiver is empty and I take my hunting knife from the lining of my jacket. There are 10 mutts left and I see Cato's sword lying forgotten in the grass. His cries are getting less frequent but each sends a pang through my heart. I take aim as I've seen Clove do at training and let the knife whistle through the air. It embeds itself in the back of a yellow mutts head and it keels over. My lip trembles as I realise there's no way to save Cato now. We are both weaponless. My eyes fill with tears and I turn away from the mutts, unable to watch anymore. Cato's whimpers catch my attention.

"Katniss," he cries. "Katniss. Katniss." I slump to my knees and curl into a ball. I'm shaking uncontrollably. I put my hands over my ears, trying to block out his helpless calls but I can still hear Cato calling my name. "Katniss, Katniss, Katniss." He's not calling for help. He's calling for comfort. I feel hot tears spill down my cheeks and soak my shirt. I'm begging to hear the cannon, to know his suffering is over. But there's no sound but Cato calling my name in death.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the second chapter. Thanks sooooo much for all the reviews and favourites, it means so much! It made my day. I hope you enjoy this chapter and there's another one coming next week, though I'll be busy for a while and probably won't get around to it. All right goes to the amazing Suzanne Collins and please review again. Thanks!**

When I feel as though I'm going to go crazy and jump off the cornucopia I feel Peeta's hands snake around my back and encircle my waist. He holds me tight into his chest as I cry for my friend Cato. I think of for how long I pinned him as my enemy, as a target to kill. But tonight he saved my life more than once. If only there was some way I could repay him.

"There's nothing you could do Katniss," Peeta whispers in my ear, brushing the hair back from my face. Fresh tears trickle down my cheeks and Peeta reaches up and wipes them away with his thumb. I bury my head on his shoulder, Cato's cries echoing in my ears.

"Do you have any knifes," I manage to choke out finally. My throat is raw from crying.

"The only one I had is buried in the back of a beasts skull," he replies finally. I nod and wrap my arms around Peeta's neck again as my eyes overflow with tears. I try to make sense of my thoughts as Peeta rubs my back comfortingly. Cato wasn't a bad person; he didn't know any better. He had been raised his whole life to do one thing; kill. He was no different than Peeta or I or anyone in these games. The Capitol had turned us against each other and used us as a warning to all the districts. We had all been taken advantage of and manipulated, including Cato. I sit back in Peeta's arms, looking into his eyes. He looks seriously back at me and I see the dark lines under his blue eyes. His hands continue to trace soothing patterns on my back.

I begin slowly. "I keep wishing…." My voice wavers and I can't finish. I look furiously at the ground, fighting back tears. Peeta tilts my chin up to look at him.

"Katniss?" he says, echoing Cato. I swallow.

"I keep wishing I could think of a way to show them they don't own me. Or you, or Cato. Show them that-"

"You're more than just a piece in their games," Peeta finishes. He gives me a knowing smile I can't return. I think back to when Peeta said that on the roof before the games and how I couldn't understand him. Now I fully comprehend and I feel the same way. I want to show the Capitol what I think of their Hunger Games. And I want to do it now. I jump to my feet.

"Peeta, the nightlock," I whisper excitedly. Before he can respond I'm sprinting to the backpack I retrieved on that first day in the arena. I find the pouch we put the leftover nightlock in after Peeta unknowingly outwitted Foxface. Perhaps we can outwit the Capitol too. Peeta catches my hand before I can pour a few of the deadly berries into my outstretched palm.

"Katniss, don't," he says harshly. I shake him free.

"Trust me Peeta," I say, tipping a handful of the nightlock into his palm. I look meaningfully at him. He looks unsure but nods, holding the berries out for the cameras to see. I do the same and hold them tightly in my closed fist. There are still some berries in the small pouch. I approach the edge of the cornucopia. Below I can see Cato's face, shining with crimson blood. Amazingly, his eyes focus on me and he bares his teeth in a forced smile. His face is stoic but as a mutt bites deeply into the soft flesh of his neck I see him wince and his forehead crease. I gulp.

"Cato," I call and he looks back at me. I wave the pouch at him. "On three." He nods in understanding. With precision, I throw the bag to him. It lands lightly on Cato's chest and with his ruined hand he feebly reaches for the bag. I can see his hand quiver and the effort it takes to lift it. Even beneath the layer of blood and grime I see the grey tinge to his skin. His face knits in pain and he empties the pouch into his shaking hand. I turn back to Peeta who has put his life in my hands, who trusts me completely, who loves me unconditionally. He is willing to die for me. He holds out a hand that I take it in mine. "One." His blue eyes warm as they settle on me. I feel a soft glow spread from my fingers all the way through my body. I'm no longer scared.

"Two." Peeta grips my hand tighter. I look over my shoulder to Cato. A dark brown mutt is tearing into his neck but he looks more peaceful than I've ever seen him. His blond hair is flecked with tiny droplets of blood and his face is covered with dried blood. His once magnificent body is a shadow from of its former self; his limbs are all mutilated beyond repair of any normal healer, even my mother. The Capitol doctors might not even be able to restore him. Death is the easiest way out for Cato. He looks younger than ever; his once icy eyes are dim and almost unseeing; I'm surprised he's still conscious. He's raises his head slightly. I meet his eyes and watch his lips move. I read the word," three."

In unison Peeta and I raise the berries to our mouths. Peeta never takes his eyes off me. I've resigned myself to death as, when the nightlock reaches my lips, the booming voice of Cladius Templesmith rings across the arena. "Stop, stop!" His voice is anxious and hurried. I see a glint of hope in Peeta's eyes. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are proud to present you the winners of the 74th annual Hunger Games, Cato Stone from District 2 and Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen of District 12." Peeta shares an incredulous look with me and sinks to his knees, still holding my hand. I let the nightlock tumble from my palm onto the cornucopia. Numb, I stamp it expressionlessly into the ground until its purple mush. Peeta gets to his feet and pulls me aside. He grips me by the shoulders, forcing me to stop and look at him. His blue eyes are shining with happy tears.

"Katniss," he says. "We've won. We've won the Games. We're going home." He envelops me in a tight hug and I stare blankly into the distance. This doesn't feel real. I promised Prim I would win but I never really believed I would. I thought I'd said goodbye for the last time. Now I'm going to see her again. An unfamiliar smile spreads across my face. I'm really going home.

Suddenly I realise the arena is quiet; there is no growl of the mutts or cries from Cato. I pull away from Peeta and sprint to the edge of the cornucopia. The mutations have silently disappeared and left Cato lying alone in a pool of his own blood. He is moaning weakly. Without thinking of my own safety I hurl myself headfirst off the cornucopia. I land hard on my right arm and roll to dull the impact. I hear a thud as Peeta lands nearby. My arm throbs dully and I clutch it to my chest, hissing through my teeth. Peeta is at my side in an instant.

"What were you doing?" he snaps, helping me to my feet. I scowl darkly at him and am about to yell back at him in defence when I realise he is just worried about me. I instantly feel guilty. He looks me up and down and sees me holding my arm awkwardly.

"Here-"he starts but I brush him away.

"I'm fine." I'm looking past Peeta, to Cato. He's motionless. For a half a second I think he's dead but I realise there was no cannon. I run forward, Peeta following disgruntledly. I drop beside Cato, whose eyes are half open. He recognises me straight away and his hand searches for mine. His hands are sleek with blood. I hold his hand loosely.

"They're gone, the mutts are gone," I whisper in a soothing voice. Speaking like that doesn't usually come naturally to me; with Peeta I always had to try, had to copy the tone my mother used with my father. But with Cato, it is effortless.

"Good." Cato forces the word out and a river of blood gushes from between his clenched teeth. I can't stop my hands trembling.

"Don't talk Cato," I beg, brushing the blond hair from his face. He sighs deeply and closes his eyes. His body convulses and more blood dribbles down his chin. I force myself to speak in a neutral tone.

"Peeta, where are the hovercrafts?" I'm proud of how even my voice is, despite my distress.

"It should be here by now, they've never taken this long," he wonders. He's sitting cross-legged under the shade of the cornucopia, looking anxiously up at the sky. He's fidgeting impatiently with his hands, wringing them together.

"You don't think…" I can't bring myself to finish the sentence. I look over my shoulder at Cato. His chest is barely rising and blood is flowing freely from his multiple wounds. His eyes are clenched shut.

"That they're trying to wait him out?" Peeta finishes spitefully. "I think that's exactly what they're doing."

I shake my head in denial. Peeta just tilts his head to the side and gives me a pitiful look. He turns away to face the wall, drawing patterns in the clay with his fingernail. I'm still shaking my head back and forth. I won't give up on Cato that easily.

I rip the bottom of my cotton shirt into long strips and soak them in what little water Peeta and I have left. I don't want to leave Cato alone to go refill them by the lake and Peeta is in no condition to walk. Although I won't admit it, I don't want to leave for fear I hear the cannon boom while I'm gone. I search the bag for the burn medicine Haymitch sent me but the small container is practically empty and I'm not sure how much good it would do Cato anyway.

"Sorry Cato, this is going to hurt," I say reassuringly. He doesn't seem to acknowledge me but as I press the bandage to his raw wound he hisses loudly and digs his fingernails into the palm of my hand. I feel the blood trickle down my arm but I didn't pull away.

"Katniss," Cato moans, grabbing my wrist. He twists, arching his back in some unseen nightmare. I bend closer to him.

"I'm here," I whisper. Cato immediately relaxes and his grip loosens around my arm. I sit back on my heels, trying to stay calm. My breaths are quickening in panic, my hands shaking.

Suddenly Cato lets out a chesty cough and warm blood spatters my clothes. His eyes roll into the back of his head. I freeze, watching his chest for the familiar rise and fall of his laboured breath. But Cato is still. I frantically find his wrist and as I've seen my mother do a hundred times check for a pulse. But I can't find one. I'm painfully aware of how cold his skin feels against mine.

"Peeta," I cry, my voice rising in panic. "Peeta do something." Peeta immediately looks up from his drawing and races over. He knows I'm being serious. Dropping to the ground, he too checks Cato's pulse. Swearing, he pushes me back behind him, blocking Cato from view.

"Don't watch Katniss," he says gently. He kneels over Cato's unresponding body and rips Cato's ragged shirt in two, revealing his bloody chest. Peeta begins pressing hard on his chest, across his breastbone. I cough back tearful sobs and clench my fists until my knuckles are white. I can't take my eyes of Cato, his face so innocent in death. Seeing him die before me, being helpless to stop it, brings me back to that meadow with Rue as the life drained out of her. I couldn't go through this, not again. My vision swims before me as I watch the boy with the bread vainly try to save the ruthless Career.

Peeta is barking out numbers as he works. His usually serene face is a mask of concentration; sweat is trickling down his face and into his eyes but he's determined to keep going. When he reaches the number thirty he bends down, holds Cato's nose shut and presses his lips to his. I looked horrified for a minute before I see Cato's chest rise. Peeta is breathing air into him. Peeta repeats this again and still Cato doesn't respond.

That's when I see the hovercraft, drifting towards us. "No!" I scream, launching myself over Peeta and wrapping my arms around Cato's torso. Peeta follows my gaze and lowers his head in defeat. He steps back from Cato's body and ends his compressions. The hovercraft comes to a stop over us.

"No," I cry again, my tears mingling with Cato's blood. His once sparkling blue eyes look blankly ahead. I bury my head in his neck, screaming uncontrollably. My wails echo across the arena in finality. Peeta looks grimly at the ground. I feel myself being lifted into the air and I experience an alien sensation of weightlessness. I am aware my hands are still folded around Cato's dead body. A sudden white light forces me to snap my eyes shut. I feel hands pry me away from Cato and men grunt with exasperation as they unfurl my stiff fingers.

"Let. Me. Go." I scream, thrashing and hitting out blindly. I squint and can make out vague shapes. I see two men in white coats stretcher Cato away into an adjoining room. I leap after him but strong hands hold me back.

"Help him," I shriek, tearing my vocal chords. I'm still lashing out with my feet and fight my way loose. I chase after Cato but an iron enforced door blocks my way. I bang repeatedly on it, tears leaking down my face. I can see through a small square window

"Cato, Cato," I scream. They have him on a bed. What are they doing to him? I try to smash open the window with my fist but instead several of my fingers pop out of place. I howl in loss and pain until a pair of hands sweep me effortlessly into their arms. I recognise Peeta's strong arms and relax into his chest. I'm still trembling uncontrollably.

"It's okay Katniss, it's over. The games are over." He lays me in a soft bed and helps peel off my dirty arena clothes. A capitol doctor tries to help but I attack him, snarling like a provoked animal and Peeta forces them all to leave. I feel a pinch in my arm as Peeta injects me with a dose of morphling. It immediately relaxes my muscles and I melt into the bed, my limbs to heavy to move. Peeta kisses me on the forehead and is about to leave when I catch his arm. He looks back at me.

"Is he dead?" I whisper. Peeta pulls up a chair beside my bed and takes my hand.

"I don't know," he replies. My lip trembles.

"Stay here Peeta. I'll have nightmares if I'm alone."

"Of course." He climbs into the bed beside me and I snuggle into his chest, like we did in our cave. He stretches out an arm and lets me use it as a pillow. It's much more comfortable than any pillow the Capitol could offer. Despite Peeta's heat I'm shivering. He puts my hands to his mouth and warms them with his breath. I eventually fall into a troubled sleep involving Rue, the tracker jackers, mutations and Cato. I can't get the image of Cato's bright blue eyes locked with mine as he fell to the mercy of the mutts. I wake screaming his name and Peeta rocks me back to sleep, humming a lullaby I would to sing to Prim to help her sleep. He does this three times during the night and I wonder if he got any sleep. The dark rings under his eyes tell me he didn't


End file.
